𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐤𝐚 | 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐭

-𝙀𝙋𝙄𝙎𝙊𝘿𝙀 𝙁𝙄𝙑𝙀: 𝙁𝘼𝙉𝘼𝙍𝙏

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𝙅𝙊𝙐𝙎𝙆𝘼
𝙀𝙋𝙄𝙎𝙊𝘿𝙀 𝙁𝙄𝙑𝙀:
"𝙁𝘼𝙉𝘼𝙍𝙏 "
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OPHELIA was quite uncomfortable as she saw yet another fanart of her and Tommy.

She had found some of them interesting. They portrayed her in a fun way. Others were disgusting, sexual even.

The girl debated talking with the boy, but she figured she would give herself time.

Jesus. I'm lesbian. We're 16. God, this is gross.

She fiddled around with her fingers, watching as more and more attention flooded in. A picture of her and Tommy standing beside each other for a height reveal seemed to be circulating around.

She wasn't that short, so she figured it wouldn't be too big of deal. The fans seemed to really enjoy it, though.

Loads of fans were on the search for the girl's socials. She privated her accounts for her own safety.

The girl snapped out of her thoughts when she felt the vibrations of the garage, signifying that her mother was most likely leaving for work: A regular occurrence.

The amount of attention I'm receiving should be making me feel better than I do.

Ophelia threw her feelings away, opening the phone app and calling Tommy. The line rung a few times before he answered.

"O-phe-li-a!" He greeted with a gruff voice. "What's up?"

"Hey Tommy," She started. Her voice seemed much shakier than usual. This is such a weird topic. "Can we talk for a little bit?"

"Sure, hold on," He briskly mumbled. There was a bit of commotion on the other end of the line. It calmed. "Okay. Sorry about that— Are you
alright? You sound worried."

The girl shied from her phone. "This is weird," She murmured.

"Huh?"

Ophelia sighed deeply. "You've had to have seen all of this art," She huffed. There was a throaty noise from his end.

"I mean, yeah, I guess," He coughed. "I try to stay away from it."

The girl could hardly figure out how to word what she wanted. "I don't want to pressure you or anything, but would you mind telling your followers to stop making art? The weird ones, I mean," She attempted to explain.

"Oh, of course!" He replied quickly.

"It's just uncomfortable," She added, relaxing her shoulders. Tommy scoffed a bit on the other end, almost like a laugh.

"So you aren't into me?" He teased. Ophelia went completely silent. "Hello?"

"See you at school," She muttered with a dead voice. Before Tommy could respond, she ended the call, slumping into her pillow.

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Ophelia's phone lightly buzzed. She rolled over, lazily grabbing her phone.

TWITCH
TommyInnit is live: BIG MAN BIG STREAM

The girl tiredly tapped, joining the stream. An advertisement played and she rolled her eyes, waiting for the amount of time to pass. The screen soon opened up to the boy's face.

It appeared as though she was right on time. "Quick note before we get into this, and it feels like I shouldn't have to say this, but please stop making weird fanart of me and Ophelia. It's fucking gross. Some of it is cool, don't get me wrong, but when it get's sexual, it's so so so fucking uncomfortable. Me and her are just friends, guys."

He swiftly moved from the topic into the stream, not really looking back. The chat seemed pretty supportive from what Ophelia could see.

The girl felt the tension in her shoulders releasing as she watched him play. The dynamics he had with other people on the SMP were always interesting to her.

There was a spark of wonder in her chest—a feeling she hadn't felt for a long time. It slowly faded away as she dragged her mind back to the fact that she was sitting alone in her bedroom watching her best friend play Minecraft on Twitch.

The garage once again shook the floor of her room and she turned the stream off, taking out her notebook and flipping it open. She laid it at the end of her bed, creating the quick scene that she fell asleep while doing homework.

She turned her back to the door, flicking her eyes downwards.

Her mother came upstairs, peeking into her disheveled room. The door soon closed, but Ophelia stayed still. It wasn't until about three minutes later that she picked up her phone again, cautious to be quiet as a mouse.

What a life.

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